(Page 1 of 2) The Slave Market of Samarkand by Sean Regan
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SUMMARY: For the February flash fiction contest, theme is "trans-"The slave caravan's arrival had been anticipated for three days. The slave-trader who commanded the caravan sent riders ahead to announce its coming, thus building the sense of expectation and his own market. Orphans watched from the eastern gate throughout the morning; when they saw the dust of the approaching wagons, they raced each other to the slave market, because the first to bring news received a coin. Word of the arrival circulated through the shops and stalls of the registan and deeper into the city.
Through the plaza the caravan passed toward its appointed place. In addition to the nomads imprisoned in the first three prison wagons, it was the slave-trader's custom to gather the youngest females in the final cart, and this collection captured the keenest attention. A crowd of several hundred citizens and merchants, drawn from peoples as disparate as Venetians and Cantonese, gathered around the procession.
Shortly after the noon call to prayer, the slave-trader wielded the mallet and made the symbolic strike upon the drum; his caravan had arrived in the market of Samarkand. Shrewd in his craft, the slave-trader glanced at the gathering and judged the audience sufficient. He ordered two guards to remove a girl from the fourth wagon. She came without struggle, and the trader grasped her manacled hands and thrust her before the crowd.
When the girl stood and lifted her head, the early afternoon sun shone full upon her. Half of the crowd fell silent, and the other half roared, for she possessed fair skin, radiant eyes that matched the blue-green tiles of Bibi-Khanym, and her hair bore the color of flame. Within a breath, the slave-trader heard eight bids. As the tumult continued, he saw three men depart at the run; he recognized them as representatives of powerful customers. The clamor caused by her presentation confirmed this truth: that which is rare receives the highest price.
The slave-trader signaled for silence, and he announced the auction would begin tomorrow following noon prayers, a full day's distance. Interested bidders approached after the girl was returned to the wagon. A Mongol who had purchased women before remarked upon her disturbed beauty. The trader could not confirm her virginity, though he claimed it was likely intact. She was taken from a small village, and the women's prison was always watched by loyal guards. A Persian merchant, who would leave for Isfahan in two days, asked where such jewels could be discovered. The slave-trader refused to answer, though he saw, in his memory, the mysterious valley where she had been taken, two weeks to the east. Despite their protests, he insisted the auction would be held the following afternoon.
The day passed. The crowd thinned. The sun brushed the shadows of towers and minarets across the city of Samarkand. An elderly spellmaker who sold enchantments in the registan had seen the girl displayed. As the muezzin called the afternoon prayer, the spellmaker approached the wagon's rear and beckoned for the fair-skinned girl.
"In my travels," the spellmaker said, "I encountered a valley where the people have skin like yours, hair like fire.
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